You'll Always be My Angel
by gods sent angel
Summary: Legolas has a sister who isn't what she seems to be (and no she isn't Sauron)and a dance with destiny the Valar won't let him miss. OMG! I did it! I updated!
1. In the beginning, sort of

A/N It's been forever since I wrote on this story, and I'm really sorry. I was trying to read the Silmarillion before I got there, but I just don't have time. Oh well. Thank you all my reviewers:

Christina::: I understand that the idea I'm working on is completely NOT Tolkien, but it's not supposed to be. It gets explained much better in some of my other stories than it has been here. While you don't have to read the others, I will warn you that I live by the theory of the interconnectedness of the universe; meaning all (or most) of my stories are interconnected and build off of each other in some way. Not in any huge way that keeps you from understanding the story, but they are all the same. And I wasn't discouraged from writing, just side tracked

CrystalCave::: Complex, yes; scary, I hope not!

CaptainCrash::: Thank you! I never thought of trying that. (P.S. Alaska's not that great, but what's it like in the UK? I always wanted to go)

Now on with the story! Yeah, it's just a revision of the first chappie for now. Not enough for its own I don't think.

A/N I own the concept of angels, and Angel, but not Kinboshi, my friend owns her. Tolkien and his surviving family own LotR. R&R.

You'll Always be My Angel

In this world there are two forces. These are the ones who embody the past, the good and the evil. These beings are known as angels, and they live among us. The ones that embody the evil of our past are often called demons, thought there is no difference. When two angels meat at a point in time where there is a monumental change for their culture, they must battle to determine the outcome. This was the work of some evil little kid who decided to play God, we're sure, but it might just be the authoress is a crazed lunatic who made the concept up at an unknown hour of the morning several years ago and never got around to writing it. Whatever.

Carnage was everywhere. The mighty battle against Sauron was finished, and Isildur had claimed the ring of power as his own. Amidst the remains was the body of the once powerful ruler, and slowly, as if only by some trick of the mind, a girl. She sat up, confused. Looking around her she saw the figure beside her move. The body of Sauron turned to her, menacing even in it's last moments.

"You'll...always be...my...angel," he whispered hoarsely, choking on his own blood as it gushed out of his mouth. The girl held his head up tenderly.

"My lord," she pleaded, "It was but your finger. You shall live."

"My ring," he said in way of explanation. He handed her a gold ring, inscribed as the One, only it read, 'one ring to find the one', and then he was gone. The girl stood, gripping the gift from her master and vanished into a wisp of dust.

Angel stood behind the bushes lining the road. A small battalion of orcs was waiting behind her in ambush. as Isildur and his marching party went by them she shouted the command, sending the orcs after the travelers. She herself became a bodiless soul, and followed Isildur, who had put on the Ring of Power and fled. She smiled coolly when he dived into the water and attempted to swim away. Using the powers of her own ring, endowed to her by her master, she called to the One, letting it slip off Isildur's finger and into the water. Some of the orcs spotted him and killed him instantly. Angel sighed satisfactorily. Her job, for now, was done.

All of Mirkwood waited with baited breath as their eyes were turned toward the castle. Long had this day been awaited and now that it was upon them none dared to scarcely speak. Within the castle walls, Lord Thranduil was ill at ease. His fair queen was with her midwives and none were allowed to enter the birthing chamber. Finally after some uncounted length of time, the wails of the newborn could be heard. A midwife entered the chamber where the king stood anxiously holding the babe. With quick grace, Thranduil was upon them, taking up his heir apparent from the woman. Looking down at the child in his he was instantly troubled by what he saw. Instead of the baby boy he had been all but assured of he beheld a raven haired girl with a birthmark like a ring on her small collar bone. The only evidence that she was even an elf was the curve of her face and the point of her tiny ears. The lady who had brought the child quickly retook it from her king and curtseying respectfully, she began to leave. As she neared the door she turned.

"What shall I inform them, sire?" she asked respectfully. Thranduil did not turn to face her. Moving to his window he leaned heavily on the sill of it.

"Inform them of the birth of my daughter," he said finally, "Lintéa." The midwife curtseyed again, though he could not see, and left.

Lintéa grew quickly, as do all children. Her raven hair had quickly fallen out and been replaced by the near white of her people, and the strange birthmark had also faded leaving her skin pure and unmarred. She was a beautiful child and all who saw her were in awe, but she was also a willful one. None could refute her whims lest her wrath be as great as her fathers, if not worse. However time passed and soon another baby was on its way

A/N Ooo! Crappy cliffhanger! SO, um, read and review. Sorry it took so long just to get this, but I have been having a lot of trouble with writer's block and then getting new story ideas. I'll try to update all my lovely stories for you all, but no real promises.


	2. this chappie's mostly filler

A/N Woohoo! Long pauses between updates, crappy chapters…who could ask for more? Yeah, yeah, just wait until Legolas is born. Good things start then. VERY good things! To be quite honest never thought about what happened before he was born, so this chapter is just filler. Good stuff. Anyways on with the story.

::::::scene::::::

The young Lintéa sat in the garden playing with some twigs where no one could see her. She couldn't believe her luck. She had just finally been able to get away from the prying eyes of her nursemaid and her parents, not to mention the doting court, and was finding it quite a relief. She dug inside her silken dress with one hand for a moment before bringing out a silver chain, on the end of which was a plain gold ring. Letting the necklace hang on the outside of her clothes for a moment she finished her twig structure, which looked like a crude circle. Snapping the necklace from around her neck she placed it in the center of her earthen ward.

"We need to talk," she growled. A small fiery eye came into existence above the place she had put her token, barely visible in its faintness. "What am I doing here?" she asked sassily.

"Temper temper," a thin, raspy voice chuckled. "I see being a child has affected you greatly, my Angel."

"An _elf_ child," she spat, yanking on one of her delicately pointed ears with disgust. "Why an elf child? Why a _child_? I could have…"

"Because," the voice cut off, not nearly so good naturedly as before, "I feel that a force shall arise from here. A force that could destroy what is left of me if gone unchecked."

"With elves," Lintéa scoffed. "My Lord, they're pansies. What on Middle Earth could they do to you?"

"Your attitude is trying me," the voice hissed menacingly, "be sure to amend it before you call upon me again." With that the vision before her disappeared, leaving the ring and chain in the clean space on the forest floor. Lintéa pouted at the empty spot and scooped up her necklace. She returned it to its place around her neck and tucked it under her clothes before moving to a more visible place.

As she came around the bend toward the palace her nurse maid spotted her. Lintéa felt a sense of impending dread fall over her as the lithe _Golug_ came toward her. She suppressed a shudder as the coddling she-elf approached her huffily.

"Child, where have you been?" she reprimanded the girl. Lintéa lowered her head slightly and glared at the woman before her from under heavy browse, producing a very effective death glare™. Her nurse cringed slightly, but seamed to be more afraid of some other force, for she still grabbed the child by the arm and began to drag her back to the castle. "Your father is looking for you," she scolded as they went. Lintéa yanked her arm from the nurse maids hold and braced herself before striding forward in front of the frazzled nanny.

"I can guide myself, cur," Lintéa snarled, not even bothering to turn around. She proceeded straight to her father's throne room, not bothering to spare a single courtesy for any of the elves she passed by. Finally she stopped at the entrance and venomously snapped at the door man to announce her. The second the door was opened to her, however, her entire demeanor changed. With a smile on her fair young face that could stop hearts she bound up to her father and mother and gave each of them a loving hug, filled with giggles and beaming faces.

"What did you want to see me about, father?" she cooed happily. Thranduil looked beyond her to the terrified staff whose faces were all riveted to the tiny bundle in his arms. He just couldn't understand what they found so repulsive about this little bundle of joy. As he reflected on this, Lintéa moved to her mother to administer the same loving affection. He didn't pay much attention when she flickered briefly to that horrid girl the staff feared as she sensed the new life in her mother's womb. As quickly as her change came it also went, leaving her that bubbly youngster her parents loved. Finally Thranduil's attention returned to her, just missing the sudden flicker of moods.

"How would you feel about having siblings?" he asked, trying to make this go smoothly. While he didn't see why the servants feared her so, he was not wholly unaware of her fiery temper. Lintéa looked at her curiously for a moment.

"I suppose they could be nice," she replied slowly "Why father?"

"Lintéa," her mother interjected. "You're going to have a little brother soon." Lintéa squealed and for once it was with genuine glee.

"Really!?" She breathed. Both her parents nodded happily. "I must go tell everyone!" she exclaimed.

"No, dear," her mother cautioned, "that is best left until we are sure." Lintéa was puzzled. Sure of what? She didn't dare question them, so she took her leave instead. Rushing back to her sheltered spot she again made a circle of twigs and placed her necklace in it.

"My lord," she panted, "I have news."

:::::::end::::::

A/N I hate short chappies, don't you? Yes I do. However this story really sucks for now and I don't want to deal with this part. I got the most important stuff down and that is that she is a DEMON CHILD. If you would like me to elaborate more on these sections, I will, but I can't promise anything. I put no thought or effort into this story between chapter one and the chapter when her brother is born, which is probably the next one. Why? Because all of that in between stuff isn't really important. Just know that she is a demon child, she still serves Lord Sauron, some how she has a copy of the ring, and she's probably somewhere in the human equivalent of 5 to 6 (I'm guessing 100 by calendar years). Yes it did take her that long to get back in touch with Sauron. I probably should write how she got her ring, but that means I'd have to come up with something. Meh, I don't feel like it now. So there . R&R!!!!!!

And the death glare I stole from Heero Yui of Gundam Wing. Hopefully I can return it before he starts pulling guns out of his spandex….

And Golug is the closest I could find to Elf in orcish. So, my intent was sort of the equivalent of calling some one a, well, a very dirty foul word. Even worse than Mud blood O.O


End file.
